


Fall Apart

by monstersinthecosmos



Series: The Usher [4]
Category: Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Just in general, M/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism, armand is a pest, daniel makes questionable life choices, jerkin it with the vampire, just saying, not in the fic really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 10:21:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9543548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monstersinthecosmos/pseuds/monstersinthecosmos
Summary: Jerking Off with the Vampire





	

**Author's Note:**

> was listening to [Fall Apart by Death in June](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F_S8bPXK8ao) during this process. ;D

_1979_

Daniel was usually spent by 4am. By then, Armand usually had him back at his hotel. He’d help Daniel undress, and set a glass of water on the side table for him, and if he had enough time before dawn he would climb into the bed, too, and doze for a little while before he had to leave. This had become ritual, comfortable.

But then, when Armand left, Daniel would wake up, his eyes itchy and burning from exhaustion, muscles aching. If there had been alcohol the night before, he’d have heartburn like a sonofabitch and his pulse would be out of control. He’d sit up and drink the water that Armand left out, maybe watch a little TV, and try to go back to sleep.

It wasn’t that Armand woke him when he was leaving. No, he was always silent. Completely and literally silent, slipping from the room as if he were vapor. It was more the fact that Daniel would somehow instinctively know he was _alone_ , and once the sun came up it all just seemed a little too horrifying to be real. When this all started, the sunrise made him feel safe and protected. Now it just made him feel fucking lonely. The dusty white rays that crept through the splits in the hotel curtains always made him a little nauseous.

Something about witnessing dawn like this always just felt like someone was shining a light on his bad decisions. And he was always too tired to panic over it, but it made sleep difficult. The doubt would crawl too hard on his skin.

One of the surefire ways he knew to help relax again was to jerk off. And, being honest with himself, he usually needed to after a night with Armand, anyway. Armand was a physical vision, to be sure, and it was that. But the blood exchanges did it, too. The sharp and sudden pain of Armand’s teeth always shot straight down his spine and right to his dick, and always rose the hair on his arms, and there was always that moment where it peaked and made him gasp before it all melted into something warm and familiar and _good_. And then when he’d drink from Armand it was as if the infusion locked all these feelings into place, made his body feel so rejuvenated and vital, and lit his senses on fire. There were times when the Blood was enough, and could tap into something that made him feel so elevated, so enlightened, and he’d spend the rest of the night feeling unattached to his body, so completely absorbed in everything around them that he couldn’t even remember his own needs. But, other times…

It could be frustrating, no, torturous around Armand. Everything he did and said seemed alluring somehow, even when he was acting peculiar. Everything felt like a tease. It would build and build all night until he was ready to scream. And the hardest part was that Armand _knew_. He must know, right? He always _knew_ stuff like this.

So there he would be after all of it, nauseous and exhausted but unable to sleep, entire body wound tight until he could release all the tension in a messy spurt over his stomach. Then finally he could rest. Age old trick; he’d learned it in high school.

The night they saw _Alien_ together they’d come back to the hotel early. Daniel remembered it was the _Alien_ night because the movie had put Armand in a weird mood, but he wouldn’t talk about it. The movie had let out a 2am, they spent an hour in an all-night diner (in which Daniel ate and Armand watched him so closely that he didn’t even blink for a good twenty minutes), and finally they were back at the suite with two and a half hours to spare. Daniel had stripped down to his boxers and flopped into the bed, but Armand hovered in the doorway. Normally he was a little more affectionate than this, whether he was teasing or not. Daniel didn’t care, either way. He was just glad to be in bed.

“Why do you always wait for me to leave, Daniel?” Armand asked.  

Daniel’s face was in his pillows so his words came out muffled, but it didn’t matter. Armand would know. “What are you talking about.”

“You always touch yourself after I leave.”

The heat immediately rose to his cheeks; he knew he was blushing, but still kept his face out of sight. Something knotted in his stomach—he thought it was anxiety, embarrassment, but maybe it was just arousal. Maybe both feelings could exist at once.

A moment passed in silence. He wasn’t sure what to say, and Armand hadn’t elaborated further. Finally he lifted his head and looked over. Armand was still leaning against the doorway into the sitting area, arms crossed over his chest. But his face was unreadable. Completely blank. Daniel had thought maybe the question had been rhetorical, because it was too ridiculous to answer, but the prolonged silence made him wonder if he should respond.

“Uh,” he propped himself up on his elbow. “I don’t know. It’s private.”

“Why do you do it, though?“

It always felt a little strange when Armand asked questions like this. Just hearing the words out loud would plant the thought in his head, and he knew Armand would be listening in while he tried to form his answer. So what was the point? Wouldn’t Armand just know? But he just stared, still and calm, and waited for Daniel to speak.

"I don’t know, didn’t you ever jerk off when you were alive?”

“No.“

“What, did you die a virgin or something?”

Armand gave him a wry grin. “I never needed to. I was never alone.”

Daniel rolled his eyes. “Of course you weren’t.“

"Daniel.”

“What?“

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He couldn’t help the little groan, and he flopped back down into the bed, laying on his side so that he could still see Armand’s face. “It helps me relax so I can fall asleep.“

“You can do it while I’m here, if you wish to.”

How was it that after all these months of Armand putting him on edge, and all the mornings he’d come all over himself imagining that the vampire would finally approach him, how was it that his voice was still so deadpan, so flat and cold? Shouldn’t it have felt more suggestive, more magnetic? He had fantasized about this moment, when Armand would finally cross the barrier, but….

He felt it stir between his legs, anyway. And he realized it was appropriate. This was Armand. He shouldn’t have expected any different.

“Well, I don’t _wish to_.“

"I think you’re lying, Daniel,” Armand dropped his arms down to his sides and came into the room. He seated himself at the chair in the corner. “I think you want to touch yourself. And then you won’t have to wake up after I leave. You’ll sleep soundly.”  

And fuck. Whatever weird scenarios he’d come up with in his mind to imagine that they’d finally have this conversation seemed so pale to the actual shock of it, even with as cold and strange as Armand was acting. He felt the ache anyway and it made sense. It was so very _Armand_ and he realized now that he wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Why don’t you touch yourself, Daniel.“ Armand suggested. It wasn’t a question.

There came that same flutter in his gut again, that strange mix of arousal and humiliation. And the _newness_ of it, suddenly making him feel like a teenager, the way he felt the first few times he’d been with anyone. Before he realized he was doing it, and before he could talk himself out of it, he found himself palming the half-erection over his boxers. Whatever pleasurable sensations came from it were blending into the little jitters of apprehension until he couldn’t tell them apart. Armand was watching him with the same focus as he’d had at the diner earlier. It made Daniel’s skin crawl a little bit, but, again, his body somehow couldn’t tell it apart from how turned on he was getting.

He rolled onto his back; it was more comfortable and gave him an excuse to look away from Armand. His dick stirred beneath his hand, through the fabric, but he wasn’t ready to stroke in earnest yet. God, he hadn’t felt like this in forever. This nervous and self-conscious.

“Why are you nervous?” Armand asked. Daniel’s breath came out in a huff.

“I swear, you are an immortal idiot,” but as he was grumbling, he was lifting his hips to slide the boxers down over his thighs. Two fingertips automatically sought for the spot by the base that always brought him to full attention, his thumb brushing up and down over the edge of his head a couple times. Under other circumstances, he might not have been able to suppress the little noises that usually came out of his throat at this point, but feeling Armand’s eyes on him was stifling it, raising the inhibitions. He stretched out, arching his lower back just enough to feel his muscles tingle, then put his free arm behind his head. Closed his eyes. It again occurred to him how different this was than the ways he fantasized breaching this subject; most of them involved blood, or Armand initiating it with a touch somehow. Sometimes he thought of the first time they’d made out, Daniel’s back pressed up against a streetlamp somewhere, except that he had filled the rest of the evening with all the ways they could’ve escalated from there. Sometimes It was just touching, which would have to do if it were real life. Other times he ignored Armand’s limitations and imagined actual sex. But it had never been like this. Armand just sitting there and treating it the way he treated every other human habit. Asking ridiculous questions and fucking _staring_ like that.

It worked just as well, though. Maybe better. It was hard to say because it wasn’t a fantasy anymore. It was fucking happening.

“What are you thinking about?” Armand asked. Daniel gave himself a couple of long strokes and wanted to laugh, but there was too much tension beginning to build.

He didn’t open his eyes when he answered. “Nothing.”

“You’re lying, Daniel,” Armand said. Daniel heard him shift in his seat.

“Then why are you asking me? Don’t you know?”

“Because I want you to tell me.”

Now he couldn’t repress the strained groan, and he bit his bottom lip as his hand did a little twist. He flexed his shoulder blades and tried to settle back more, tried to relax. Gave himself a small squeeze and a few more strokes, making sure to bump against the head each time. “Blood.”

“Blood?”

He could see it behind his closed eyes. “Your blood.”

And, right. This was how it usually started. Thinking about the Blood. Replaying the last transfusion in his mind. Usually that Armand would bite him, sweet and sharp, and his hips did a little thrust into his hand as he conjured the feeling of the cool lips against his neck. And the sting, the feeling of Armand’s fingers spread out against his back. Even though Armand usually took such quick tastes, he always imagined it going on and on, until he was dizzy with blood loss. Then things would diverge from real memory.

“How does it diverge, Daniel?”

A small whimper came out as a wave crashed over. Sometimes, alone, he would take this opportunity to play with his nipples a little bit with his free hand, but he was still riding on that fringe of shyness, somewhere between getting off on this completely and being overcome with embarrassment. “You’ll touch me. I’ll be laid out in bed, and you’ll let me drink from your wrist and you’ll touch me with your other hand.”

The speed picked up a bit. Pleasure was coming in tiny riffs and spikes, each eliciting its own quiet gasp until burning into one sensation. His thumb reached up to smear down a bead of precum, rubbing it into his skin.  

“What does it feel like, Daniel?”

“I don’t—” sharp hiss “—know.”

“Tell me.”

His hand was moving faster, eyes screwed tighter shut, and he could see flashes of images instinctively even though he didn’t think he really needed an aid right now. Abs began to clench a little. “Ar-mand,” he said, “this is—stupid—”

“No, Daniel,” his voice was so fucking patient and calm and it went _straight into him_ , “I want you to tell me.”

“It feels—good,” he panted. He planted one of his heels down flat against the mattress, grinding himself down into it.

“Just good?”

The whine that came out of him was truly pathetic, but he couldn’t stop. Then there was another. His voice had raised an octave when he tried to talk again. “I don’t… _know_. I don’t know!”

He could feel the pressure building, beneath his hand, down through his balls and even inside, radiating outwards into his limbs, to the very bottoms of his feet. It lay heavy in his gut like a coil.

“Daniel—“

“ _Fucking shut up, Armand!_ ”

His whole body seized as he came. His eyes shot open but he could only see spots against the dull ceiling. Hands were trembling as he felt it shooting out, feeling it unwind from the inside for that tiniest moment before feeling it splash hot up against his chest. Everything in him was throbbing as he rode out the contractions, giving himself a few more little squeezes, feeling tight all over for a moment before it began to ease up. He swallowed hard as his breathing slowed. His heart was pounding hard enough that it was the only thing he could hear through the ringing in his ears. But it was slowing now, coming down.

He licked his lips, and dropped his hand to his side. Everything was beginning to feel warm and loose and just fucking nice, and the whole evening seemed far away. Sleep was imminent.

Something cold nudged the back of his hand and he had to give his head a little shake to clear his vision. Armand was standing over him—Daniel hadn’t heard him move, or seen him, but he couldn’t be sure if it was a vampire trick or if he just hadn’t been capable of paying attention. His face gave nothing away, but his head was tilted to the side as he looked down at the boy. His eyes caught the warm incandescent light of the bedside lamp from here and shone amber. Soft and curious. When he gave Daniel’s hand another little nudge, Daniel realized he was trying to hand him a handkerchief.

“Oh,” he mumbled, and propped himself up on his elbows as he took it and began wiping himself off. “Thanks.”

“Daniel,” Armand said. He held his hand out and took the handkerchief back when Daniel was finished.

“What?”

“Tell me what it felt like.”

“Oh my god,” Daniel rolled over and buried his face in the pillow. “You are a pest, I’m going to sleep.”


End file.
